


Leap of Faith

by Alisanne



Series: Leap of Faith [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's always had a way with magical creatures, and Draco is just a fancy name for a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unbroken_halo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/gifts).



> Written for Daily Deviant's 2009 Kinky Kristmas Challenge. 
> 
> **Kinks/Themes Included:** bondage, hair pulling, outdoor sex.
> 
> **Author's Notes:** Nothing recognizable belongs to me. Thanks to my beta reader, Sevfan, for all her hard work.

~

Leap of Faith

~

“You think you can handle him?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “I can handle a snot-nosed kid,” he snorted. “I don’t relish being a bloody babysitter, but if he gives me any trouble, I’ll just ship him back.” He shrugged. “Plus, he’s named after a dragon. I can tame any dragon.”

Kingsley laughed. “I’m sure you can.” Leaning forward, he said, “I hope you won’t have to send him back, though. He’s had a rough time of it, and I think it’ll do him good to get away.” 

Nodding, Charlie pursed his lips. He was used to speaking his mind, but Kingsley was Minister for Magic now, so he wasn’t sure how that worked these days--

“Ask,” Kingsley said, interrupting his thoughts. He smirked when Charlie raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m not using Legilimency, it’s just obvious that you’ve questions.” 

Charlie leaned back in his chair. “Why do you care about Malfoy so much?” he asked. “From what I hear, he’s just a snotty brat whose only claim to fame is that he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts.”

Kingsley shook his head. “He can be saved. Dumbledore was convinced that he was coerced into following his father, and I tend to agree. Sending him to Azkaban would only make his bigotry more entrenched. I want him rehabilitated, Charlie, and that can’t happen if he stays here.”

“But it can happen on a dragon preserve in Romania?”

“Maybe.” Kingsley shrugged. “I suppose we’ll see.” 

“So what am I supposed to do with him there?”

Kingsley smiled. “Use your discretion. He may even discover a heretofore unknown interest in dragons. Worse things could happen. Plus, any Malfoy can only be improved with some honest, hard labour.”

Charlie smirked. Wasn’t that the truth? “His father’s going back to prison?”

“Yes, although the Wizengamot commuted the sentence to only five years based on Harry’s testimony.” 

“And his mother?”

“As soon as she was acquitted, she moved to France. I hear she’s already started divorce proceedings.” 

“Baby Malfoy isn’t going to be too pleased to be apprenticed to a Weasley.”

Kingsley shrugged. “I honestly can’t say I care. He was spared prison because of Harry’s word, but I don’t want him hanging about London with nothing to do but ruminate on his life and the war. He needs to be kept busy. I trust you can do that?”

Charlie grinned. “Oh, I guarantee I can do that.”

Kingsley smiled. Scribbling something onto a piece of parchment in front of him, he nodded. “Excellent.” 

~

If anyone had told Draco a year ago that he would ever be shovelling dragon dung after getting out of Hogwarts, he would have hexed them on the spot, yet here he was, doing just that. 

Romania, far from being the idyllic place he’d envisioned, had turned out to be a hot, filthy place. At the least the tiny corner of it that he’d been allowed to see.

_What the fuck was I thinking by agreeing to this_?

Leaning on his shovel in order to catch his breath, Draco sighed. What he’d been thinking was that he needed to get away from the scene of his greatest humiliation, and this had sounded like a good idea at the time. _Better than bloody Azkaban, anyway._ He shuddered. The last time he’d seen his father--

No. Such thoughts led to madness, and he couldn’t afford that now. Not when he was trying to show the world that a Malfoy could do anything he set his mind to. _Even shovel dragon dung._

Where the hell did all of it come from, anyway? The dragons, yes, but it seemed to Draco as if there was far more of it than should be possible, even given the amount that dragons ate, which was, he now knew intimately, a _lot_. 

His first day he’d been assigned to feeding, and having to lug sides of beef into the feeding pen had completely exhausted him. And presumably someone had complained, maybe he hadn’t pulled his own weight, since today he was assigned an even, well, shittier job. 

Wiping his brow with his arm, Draco set to work again. He wasn’t going to give Weasley a chance to find fault with him today. Who knew what worse job they could find for him to do? 

No one had said much of anything to him when he’d arrived. He’d Flooed from the Ministry, where he had been instructed to report at five o’clock in the morning, directly to Romania. A compactly muscled Weasley, who had introduced himself as Charlie, had been waiting for him when he’d arrived. 

Draco had been shown to a tent about an eighth the size of his bedroom back at Malfoy Manor, told to change into work clothes, and had immediately been put to work. After being informed that wake up time was six, that there were three meals a day, and that if he missed any he was out of luck since no special provisions were to be made for him, he was told that magic was strictly off limits around the dragons. All labour was manual. 

His first day had left him aching and exhausted, and by the time he’d limped back to his tent, he’d barely been able to stay awake. Someone had left a vial of Pain Potion on his camp bed, however, and with a groan, he’d downed it, and fallen into bed, asleep before his head had hit the pillow. 

_That’s the first time I’ve slept soundly since--_ Draco shivered despite the heat. His year of living with the Dark Lord had not been very conducive to rest. 

“Are you almost done?”

Draco sighed. _Not Weasley again._ Looking behind him, he saw Charlie approaching. With a nod, he got back to work. 

“Nothing to say?”

Draco shrugged.

“You don’t talk much.”

Blinking, Draco said, “There isn’t that much to say, is there? You’ve told me what to do, and I’m doing it.”

Charlie stared at him for a few minutes until Draco asked, “Am I doing this wrong or something?”

“What are you up to, Malfoy?”

“My ears in shit,” Draco deadpanned. “I thought that was obvious.” 

Charlie didn’t look amused. “I made some inquiries before you arrived. I’ve heard all about your antics at school, about the role you played in Vol-Voldemort’s reign of terror.”

“I guess those things tell you all you need to know about me, then.” Draco avoided Charlie’s eyes and continued shovelling. “Was there something else?”

“Dragons always tell you what they’re going to do before they do it.” Charlie waited until Draco looked up at him to continue. “Sometimes people do, too. Are you one of those people, Malfoy?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see,” Draco muttered. 

Charlie nodded. “I suppose I will.” Glancing up into the sky, he said, “Supper’s in an hour. See you there.” 

Draco bent his back to finish the work. He had no doubt the dung would just be deeper the more he left tonight. Something told him that he’d hear about it if he did a subpar job.

~

Malfoy was easy to spot in the dining tent. His blond hair made him stand out like a swan amongst ducklings. After grabbing dinner, Charlie made a beeline for him. 

He flinched when Charlie sat down, and Charlie carefully noted the reaction. _There’s a story there._ “Good job today,” he said, noting the look of surprise that crossed Malfoy’s face. _Not so used to praise, then. Interesting._ “Fletcher says the dung pit was as close to spotless as he’s ever seen it.”

Malfoy nodded, but didn’t stop eating. 

“Interested in what you’ll be doing tomorrow?” Charlie asked, biting into a roll. 

“I thought I’d be in the shit pen for a while, actually.” Malfoy had stopped eating and was now staring at him. “Fitting punishment or something.”

“This isn’t punishment, Malfoy.” Charlie leaned forward, across the table. “The Minister asked me to find you something useful to do, and that’s what I’m doing. You’re going to rotate through all the jobs here, and if you find one you like, just let me know and I’ll keep you on that one.” He smirked. “If that’s the dung pen, speak up.”

A blush spread across Malfoy’s face and for a moment, Charlie wondered how far down the colour went. Pulling himself back from the inappropriate thoughts, he continued, “I brought you some dragon books. If you’re interested, you can look through them; if not, no skin off my nose.” 

Sliding the books across the table, he watched as Malfoy picked one up to flip through it. “Thanks,” he said eventually, and for the first time he looked engaged. “Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t my favourite class.”

Charlie’s eyebrow shot up. “What was wrong with it?” he asked, tone frosty. Hagrid might have been a bit scattered, but Charlie had always considered him a good friend.

Malfoy looked away. “Like all the classes at Hogwarts last year, it wasn’t really about learning things. It was about keeping us cowed.” He smiled, and there was no humour in it. “We did learn that big snakes are dangerous, though.”

Feeling ashamed, Charlie cleared his throat. “Right, well, you should get some sleep. You’re with me in the birthing pen tomorrow.” He rose to leave and, remembering something, he reached into his trousers, pulling out the salve he’d requisitioned from their Healer. “And be sure to apply this all over before you show up to the pen tomorrow. If you don’t, the dragons may attack you, and trust me, you don’t want that.”

Malfoy accepted the salve, slipping it into his pocket.

Charlie hovered for a second, waiting for a response, but Malfoy said nothing, so he mumbled, “Goodnight,” and walked away. Contemplating what he would have to do to get Malfoy to smile, Charlie sighed. _Good thing I like a challenge._

~

The birthing pen was hot. According to the book Charlie had given him, Draco knew it was supposed to be, however. Dragon eggs required very high temperatures to mature normally and hatch. While dragon mothers tried to maintain them by exhaling fiery breath over them, it was often not enough, explaining why the hatching rate for dragons eggs in the wild was only about ten percent. 

The dragon preserve had an eighty-five percent hatching rate, and, as Draco shovelled hot coals around the eggs, he wondered why it wasn’t one hundred percent. It certainly felt like an inferno in there. 

He had long since lost his shirt and was sweating his way through the labour. Oddly enough, this was more satisfying than shovelling shit. _Probably because it feels more useful._

Before reporting to the pen, he had carefully applied the thick salve Charlie had given him, and while his skin had turned pink, he wasn’t burning. Yet.

“More on that one,” Charlie yelled, pointing to a blue egg that was peeking out from beneath red-hot coals. 

Draco nodded and managed to get more coals on just before the mother dragon turned towards him. He ducked out of the way just in time, and while she did snort in his direction, she didn’t attack him, a definite possibility given his proximity to her eggs.

Charlie was staring at him, and Draco flushed under his gaze. What was it about this Weasley that made him tingle? “What is it?” he asked, leaning on his shovel.

“You’re a natural at this.” Charlie held his gaze for a moment before looking around. “We’re done. It’s only noon and we’re done.” He shook his head.

“Is that good?”

Charlie smiled. “There’s a reason this job is assigned for the day. It’s because it usually _takes_ the whole day. But you managed it in half the time, and didn’t get singed once.”

“Perhaps the dragons realise I’m a dragon, too,” Draco joked. 

“Hm.” Charlie was still looking steadily at him. “Perhaps.” 

Draco cleared his throat. “So if we’re done, shouldn’t we leave?” 

Blinking as if startled, Charlie finally looked away from him. “Yeah, we should. Come on.” 

Outside, the air was cooler, and Draco, shivering, grabbed his shirt. “Do you have something else for me to do today?” 

If Draco hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Charlie’s gaze turned speculative. “What do you _want_ to do?”

Draco’s mind went blank. Surely Charlie wasn’t flirting-- “I thought I’d read more of those books you gave me,” he choked out. “I only managed a couple of chapters last night.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie smiled, and now Draco knew he was being sized-up. Charlie looked him up and down. Slowly. “Maybe I can quiz you on what you’ve learned later.” He reached for Draco’s shoulder and ran his thumb over a spot. “I think you missed putting slave on this area. It’s a little red. Next time, ask someone to help you so don’t miss anywhere.” 

With that, he spun on his heel and left. Draco stared after him, mouth dry. Why did it suddenly feel as if the dragons were far from the most dangerous creatures in Romania?

~

Draco Malfoy was driving Charlie mad. If it hadn’t been so obvious to Charlie that Draco didn’t know he was doing it, Charlie would have suspected it was deliberate. But no one could pull off such an air of stand-offishness while attempting to seduce another. Could they?

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Charlie sat staring at Draco who was reading in the corner. Now that he’d learned the basics of dragon taming, Draco spent every evening in the dining tent reading those bloody books Charlie had given him. Why hadn’t he held on to some so Draco would have to come to him for more? _Idiot._

“I zee you haf plans for zee Malfoy.” 

Charlie jumped, glaring at Sergei. “What are you talking about?”

“You vatch him a lot.” Sergei shrugged. “I recognise zat look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie muttered, resuming his perusal of Draco. 

Sergei laughed. Years of breathing in dragon smoke and dust had made his voice hoarse and gravelly. “You think because I am old man I do not remember vhat it vas like?” He chuckled and took a sip of his spiced wine. “Vhen I got together vis my vife it vas such. She could make me hard vis just a look.”

“Sergei--” Charlie shook his head. 

“He is good at zee potions,” Sergei continued. “Ve vill need a new potions maker soon.” 

“You want to offer him the position?” Charlie asked. “You know he’s just here because he needed to escape England for a while, right? He’s not staying.” 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who can zay?” Sergei stood up. “From vhat I hear, he does not haff much to return to. Often all one needs to make a new home iz an invitation.”

As Sergei left, Charlie contemplated what he’d said. Would Draco consider staying if Charlie asked? He did seem to have adjusted to the reserve quite well. The other tamers liked him; he pulled his weight, never shirking his assignments. In fact, he often looked for more to do. 

_I wonder what he does for fun?_ Charlie narrowed his eyes. There was one person who would know, only he wasn’t anxious to contact him. 

Draco turned a page, and the movement caused light to glint off his white-gold hair. Heat flashed through Charlie. He rose to use the Floo. _How bad can he be_? he thought as he walked towards the office. 

Minutes later he had his answer. _Pretty bad._ Charlie swallowed hard and tried to stare Snape down. “Look, I’m trying to help him, all right?” 

“Indeed.” Snape looked unimpressed. “And to... _help_ him you require knowledge of his hobbies?” 

“It’s just--” Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “He’s done everything we’ve asked, but I think he would be more comfortable here if he relaxed a bit. I simply thought that if you gave me a hint, I could make this experience a bit more--”

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape interrupted. “Draco is fully capable of providing his own entertainment. It was my understanding, however, that he was there to work. Some sort of community service.” Snape raised an eyebrow. “Was I mistaken?” 

Charlie sighed. “No, but I just thought--”

“For God’s sake, Severus, just tell him what Draco likes,” came Harry’s voice from beyond Snape’s left shoulder. 

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Harry?”

Snape smirked. “I apologise, we seem to have a bad Floo connection. If you’ll excuse me?”

Before Charlie could call Snape on this obvious avoidance tactic, though, Harry’s voice came through clearly. “Just take him flying, Charlie! He loves that.”

Rolling his eyes, Snape closed the Floo connection. Charlie didn’t care, though, since Harry had given him his answer. Getting to his feet, Charlie plotted his next move. He would tame his dragon yet.

~

The day dawned bright and clear, and since Draco hadn’t been told what his task for the day was, he lay in his tent watching the sun creep through the flap. _Who would have thought that I would ever consider seven am to be sleeping in?_

Yawning and stretching, Draco kicked away his covers and ran a hand down his bare torso. He hadn’t had much opportunity for a good wank since arriving; somehow doing it in the communal shower with the dragon tamers didn’t seem right, and he was usually too exhausted to manage anything after he had collapsed for the night. But that morning, for some reason, he was feeling like a good wank. 

Draco smoothed his hand over his abs, marvelling at the muscle definition he’d achieved in the short time he’d been there. Of course, he was working harder than he ever had in his life, but still, his body was in the best shape he could remember.

His prick lay erect against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-come on his skin. Licking his lips, Draco grasped it and began to pump. He did it slowly, lazily at first, savouring the drag of his hand over his length, but he couldn’t maintain that pace for too long. Tents weren’t very private, and while no one had ever just barged in on him, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. 

He closed his eyes and picked up the pace, biting his lips to stifle a moan. Unbidden, a vision of a muscled chest came to him and he exhaled shakily, his hand speeding up. He imagined his fantasy man bending over him, burying his hands in Draco’s hair and _pulling_ , and Draco pondered what it would be like to lick that freckled skin, come all over that chest, or maybe to have that red hair brushing against him as he came.

Draco's eyes popped open. _Red hair_? “Charlie,” he groaned, coming in thick ropes all over himself and his hand. “Fuck.”

Stunned at the turn his fantasy had taken, he caught his breath and then something told him to clean up. He did, pulling on his rumpled sleep pants, and it was just in time. The tent flap was shoved aside and Charlie, larger and hotter than his fantasy, was standing there. 

“I thought I heard my name.” Charlie’s nostrils flared for a moment and then he smirked. “Apparently I should have got here a shade earlier,” he murmured. 

Draco’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Charlie smiled. “Are you...up?”

Draco blushed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his cot. “Er, yes. Am I late?”

“Not at all.” Charlie licked his lips, and Draco only just refrained from moaning in response. “I thought we’d try something different today.” His eyes raked Draco’s naked chest. “Get dressed and follow me. Not that I have any objections, but you’ll get sunburnt if you go like that.”

_No objections_? “Go where?” Draco asked, reaching for a shirt. 

“Sightseeing,” Charlie said before turning and pushing his way out of the tent. “You've five minutes,” he called over his shoulder. “I picked up breakfast for both of us.”

Draco cast another Cleaning Spell on himself before shrugging on his clothes and stepping out of the tent. As soon as the fresh air hit him, he realised that Charlie must have smelled the musk of sex in his tent. He met Charlie's eyes squarely. “So what are we doing today?”

Charlie smiled slowly, and Draco suppressed his shiver. “We’re going for a tour. Come on.”

~

“Here we are,” Charlie said when they reached the cliff. He let out an ear-piercing whistle, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Draco winced slightly.

Draco kept up with him easily on the walk up the mountain, and Charlie suddenly recognized just how much Draco had physically shaped up in the weeks he’d been there. Not that he had been fat upon arrival by any means, but the daily exercise had made him quite fit. Draco was now fully as built as any dragon tamer, and while he might have had difficulty keeping up on a march with Charlie before, he certainly didn’t now. Charlie smiled to himself. He planned to test Draco's stamina for himself _very soon_. 

In the distance, Charlie spotted a speck coming towards them and he grasped Draco’s arm. "Do you trust me?" he asked. 

Draco nodded without hesitation. “If you’d meant me harm you could have killed me long before this,” he said. 

Charlie grinned. “True enough. All right, so when I tell you to jump, you jump, yeah?”

“Jump where?”

“Over the cliff.” Charlie tightened his hold on Draco’s arm.

Draco’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve never struck me as the suicidal type,” he murmured. 

“Oh, I have plenty to live for, trust me,” Charlie chuckled. “Now get ready.”

The speck was closer, accompanied by a loud noise akin to a train, and Charlie saw the moment Draco realised what was approaching. “Is that--?”

“Hang on,” Charlie cried as the roaring got closer. “This is half the fun.”

“I don’t think--”

“Jump!” Charlie screamed, pulling Draco with him as he dove off the cliff. 

Charlie fell for a couple of seconds before impact, Draco landing behind him with a smothered, “Oof!”

After catching his breath, Charlie felt Draco scrambling with him to adjust. He clutched the leather straps and hung on. Behind him, Draco was panting, an arm clutching Charlie’s waist. “What the fuck?!” Draco screamed in his ear. 

“It’s my favourite way to mount a dragon,” Charlie called back. “Hang on.” 

“I’m certainly not letting go!” Draco retorted, clutching Charlie tighter as the dragon swooped higher into the sky. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me!” 

Charlie pulled the straps, directing the dragon into slow, lazy sweeps of the preserve. “You were never in any danger,” he said. “I wouldn’t have let you fall.” 

Nevertheless, Charlie could feel Draco trembling against him as they flew and as he pointed out the various areas of the reserve that were best seen from the air. _Shit, was Harry wrong? Maybe he hates flying._

Draco’s breath was hot against his neck, and Charlie wished he could do something to make him relax. Spotting a cave, he directed the dragon towards it, landing it as gently as he could. 

Charlie manoeuvred himself off, then helped Draco down, but when he got a look at Draco’s face, he quickly revised his opinion. _Fuck, he’s aroused!_

Draco face was flushed, his breath was coming in little pants, and his trembling clearly had more to do with excitement than anything else. “That was brilliant,” he breathed. 

“So you weren’t scared?” Charlie asked, smoothing the scales of the dragon he was now leaning against. 

Something flashed across Draco’s face; surprise, amusement, chagrin, Charlie couldn’t be sure what exactly it had been, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been fear. “No, Weasley,” Draco drawled, stepping closer. “I definitely wasn’t scared.” 

“I take it you like flying, then?” 

“Love it.” Draco’s gaze dipped to Charlie’s lips. “That’s the first time I’ve been in the air since the Ministry confiscated my broom. Thank you.” 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Charlie said, tone husky. He cleared his throat. Draco’s nearness was affecting him. “So let me show you the view of the compound from up here--”

Draco pressed against him. “I have something else to show _you_ first,” he purred, grinding his erection into Charlie’s leg. 

Grinning, Charlie dragged Draco into the mouth of the cave, leaning his against the wall. “Wow, you _really_ like flying, don’t you?” he murmured. 

“Mm hm.” Draco arched against Charlie. “I would love to show you exactly how much.” 

The conditions weren’t ideal. After all, they were outdoors, the rocks were hard, the ground rough, and yet they managed. When Charlie’s calloused hand closed about Draco’s cock and began to stroke, Draco groaned and bucked against him, and when Draco bit Charlie’s shoulder, Charlie shivered with pleasure and moved faster.

Draco didn’t last long, coming with a cry that echoed in the cave. Charlie leaned his forehead against Draco’s and reached for his own prick, only to have his hand batted away. “I believe that’s mine,” Draco rasped, and seconds later he was on his knees, nuzzling Charlie, who leaned back on the wall of the cave for support. 

Charlie fought hard to keep his eyes open, to watch as Draco’s lips covered the very tip of his cock and sucked, to not come too fast, but the combination of the sight and touch of Draco was too much. He moaned as Draco held him in place and slid his mouth up and down his length. Draco’s tongue was of the devil, taking its time tracing the large vein underneath Charlie’s prick, making him tremble. 

The final straw was when Draco swallowed him and then hummed, the vibration shooting up Charlie’s body until his balls tightened and he came spilling down Draco’s throat, his head hitting the wall hard as he bellowed his release.

Moments later, Draco was on his feet, leaning in, and as they snogged for the first time, Charlie could taste himself on Draco’s tongue. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he gasped. 

“It was pretty good,” Draco agreed. “Almost as good as I--” He paused, flushed and tried to pull away, but Charlie held onto him. 

“Almost as good as what?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “You _did_ call my name this morning, didn’t you?” He grinned. “Were you thinking of me during your morning wank?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes. Fine. I wanked to you this morning. Happy?”

“Mm,” Charlie murmured, running his hand through Draco’s silky hair. “I am, actually. I’ve been watching you for a while.” 

“Yeah?” Draco searched Charlie’s eyes for a moment. He smiled. “Good.” 

The dragon snorted a bit of smoky flame and Charlie grinned. “Our ride’s getting restless,” he said. “Time to get back.” 

Draco nodded, and as he put himself back together, he said, “So have I seen everything you wanted me to see?”

Charlie smirked and pulled his close, snogging him deeply before pulling back. “Oh no,” he said. “You’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. I’ve lots more to show you.” 

~

“I zee zings are going vell viz zee blond.” 

Charlie almost choked on his soup. “Sergei--”

Sergei held up his hand. “I assumed zey ver. If I am wrong, apologies.” 

Blinking, Charlie asked, “Why did you say that, anyway?” 

“He haz accepted ze potions maker position.” Sergei shrugged. “I assumed you had zomezing to do viz it, but if you did not, zen--” But Charlie was already gone, leaving his half-finished plate behind. Sergei grinned. 

“Draco?” Charlie pushed his way into Draco’s tent, looking around. He wasn’t there, but that was hardly surprising. More often than not, Draco spent the night in Charlie’s tent, which made sense since his tent was bigger.

Hurrying to his own quarters, Charlie entered, pausing at the beguiling sight before him. 

Draco, his back to the entrance of the tent, hair loose about his shoulders, his fingers in his arse, turned his head as Charlie entered. “You’re early,” he purred. “I thought I’d be stretched and ready by the time you got here.” 

Charlie swallowed hard. “You know I like to watch you do that,” he managed. 

“I know.” Draco worked a third finger into his hole and moaned. “But I’m horny and I wanted you to fuck me as soon as you got here. Plus, we have to celebrate.” 

“We do?” Charlie was practically tripping over himself in his haste to get undressed. 

“We do,” Draco confirmed, panting as he stretched himself. “I got an owl today.” 

“All right.” Charlie crawled onto the bed, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Draco’s hair. Yanking Draco’s head back, Charlie licked his neck, scraping his teeth along the curve of Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll bite,” he whispered. “Tell me what we’re celebrating.” 

“Mother approves of my decision.” Draco’s fingers were out of his arse; Charlie had taken over, slipping his index finger inside. 

“Which decision was that?” Charlie asked, positioning his cock head against Draco’s hole.

“Please.” Draco tried to move back, to impale himself on Charlie’s prick, but Charlie slid his hands down to Draco’s hips, holding him still. 

“Tell me.” 

“I accepted Sergei’s job offer. I’m the new potions maker for the reserve.” Draco arched against Charlie. “Now will you fuck me?”

Charlie didn’t reply verbally, instead he pushed Draco down onto the bed and thrust deep, knowing that Draco liked it that way. It was perfect, Draco’s arse in the air, Charlie behind him, fucking him with steady, thorough strokes. 

Draco reached for his cock, but Charlie had other ideas. A whispered spell had Draco’s wrists bound. “Charlie!” Draco whined. 

“You’ll come when I say,” Charlie murmured, speeding up his thrusts. 

Draco writhed beneath him, groaning as he got closer and closer to release. “Please, please--” he was chanting as Charlie fucked him into the mattress. 

Gritting his teeth, Charlie held on, and when he judged Draco was teetering on the edge, he whispered, “Come now, my dragon,” and bit his shoulder. 

Shrieking into the pillow, Draco came, shuddering and spurting, and Charlie somehow held on, managing not to come despite Draco’s muscles rippling around him, attempting to coax his orgasm from him. 

When Draco was done and lay gasping for air, Charlie began to move again, this time his thrusts were firm, fast, a bit rough. Draco moaned again. “Feel so good.”

“Yes, you do,” Charlie agreed. A moment later he was shuddering through his own pleasure, emptying himself into Draco before collapsing on top of him with a groan. A minute passed before he had the energy to roll off and undo Draco’s bindings. “So your mother likes the idea of you as a dragon tamer?” he asked.

“She wants me to be happy.” Draco, now on his side, shrugged. “Apparently our French cousins, the Malefoy’s, have a son who is perfectly placed to bring the family name back from disgrace.” 

Charlie cracked an eye open. “And you’re all right with that?” 

“Maybe it’s for the best.” Draco sighed. “She knows I’m unlikely to father any children, certainly.”

Wishing he had something comforting to say, Charlie opted to say nothing; instead he pulled Draco close.

“What did you call me before?” Draco asked minutes later. 

Charlie, who was stroking his hair, frowned. “When?”

“When you told me to come.” 

Charlie smiled. “Oh, right. My dragon.” 

Draco pondered that. “As long as you don’t think you’ve tamed me,” he replied finally. 

“Never,” Charlie whispered. “Although I am very good with dragons, you must admit.”

“Hm.” Draco yawned. “You’ll do, I suppose.” 

~

Kingsley read the letter from Charlie Weasley and smiled. Picking up his quill, he crossed Draco’s name off his list of potential problems. Then, turning pensive, he regarded the remaining names on the list. _Pansy Parkinson_. She would be a problem. 

Sighing, he pondered the options. Molly might kill him, but she was the one who’d borne all those boys--

Before he could change his mind, he dashed off an owl to George Weasley. He happened to know that George was in need of an assistant in his shop, and Parkinson did have good business sense. And she’d grown into an attractive woman. Kingsley smiled. Perhaps nature would take care of the rest. 

Once the owl had been sent, Kingsley sat back in his chair and put both his feet up on his desk. He had a long way to go to save this generation, but he was committed. This generation would not follow the last one. 

~


End file.
